


and in the end, i'd do it all again

by tempestaurora



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Endgame compliant, Gen, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), endgame spoilers, kind of sad but in that bittersweet way, teen for language - i drop an f bomb somewhere in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 09:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18618169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempestaurora/pseuds/tempestaurora
Summary: After the events of Endgame, Peter Parker meets Harley Keener for the first time.Contains Major Endgame Spoilers. Full summary in the notes.





	and in the end, i'd do it all again

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [and in the end, i'd do it all again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18992461) by [Bat_out_of_hell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bat_out_of_hell/pseuds/Bat_out_of_hell)



> It was a nice day to meet Harley Keener, that kid from Tennessee who Peter had only heard stories about. And it was a nice day to meet Morgan Stark, the little girl Tony had loved with all his heart. And it was a nice day, really, to have siblings for the first time. 
> 
> Even if it was at a funeral.
> 
> \--
> 
> I didn't actually think I was going to write fic again. I mean, 'toll a bell' was my swan song and I planned on keeping it that way (seriously read that fic if u can't accept canon yet....... nebula and harley become besties), but then Harley Keener came to Tony's funeral and I realised that, for the first time, my whole Iron Sons friendship could actually become canon. All I want is for Peter to have a brother and for Harley to appear in the Spiderman movies and maybe take on the Iron Lad mantle if he's feeling it (though Tony would totally disapprove). 
> 
> So, anyway. I wrote a fic. Don't expect any more from me. My dissertation's due in eleven days and I haven't looked at it in a week. I've just been ignoring it. Admittedly, I was hella sick there for a while, but still. The due date is looming and I spent my morning writing this. (I actually spent yesterday evening writing the original draft, entitled 'bad post endgame fic', but i hated it.)
> 
> without further ado, here is 'less bad post endgame fic'.

It was a nice day for a funeral, all things considered.

It was warm but not sweltering, the sky was blue not grey, and even the birds were being quiet out of respect.

Peter hadn’t wanted to go. That morning, May had all but dragged him out of bed, while he insisted that he didn’t need to be there – that he didn’t want to see Morgan Stark cry, or the Avengers and their families all lined up in tribute.

“Sweetie,” May had said, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “You’ll regret it if you don’t go.”

Peter Parker was four parental figures down and he was only sixteen years old. That had to be some kind of record. Three father figures in one hand, his mother in the other, and somehow May was the only one left standing. He’d started to learn that maybe he should just expect the worst – that the universe had deigned him not worthy of having parents, and maybe May would be next out the door.

She held his hand throughout the service, while he steadfastly tried not to cry. Pepper Potts did no such thing – she’d forgone make up and her cheeks were wet all day with the loss of her husband. _Husband._ Peter hadn’t been there for the wedding. Tony had handed him his invitation personally and asked if he’d be a groomsman.

Peter was dead, apparently, and had missed the whole day.

After the service wound down and the first of the Avengers left the dock, Peter followed, slinking out from under May’s hands to find somewhere quiet. He headed straight through the crowd of mourners and around to the other side of the house – Tony had made this place for his family, and Peter was all too aware of the bedroom upstairs where he might’ve slept.

He paused when he came across a tent, a small chair by the side. Morgan’s, presumably. He had briefly met her before the service; her in Pepper’s arms, staring at Peter with wide, intelligent eyes. She hadn’t said a word, and neither had he, really, but it was like an understanding passed between them.

“You should go inside,” a voice said from behind him.

Peter turned, his spider-sense having not warned him. The person was older than him, with dusty blonde hair and his hands shoved in the pockets of his suit. There was red around his eyes, matching Peter’s, and he stopped beside him, nodding to the tent.

“Morgan keeps a secret stash of cookies in there. She won’t mind if you want some.”

Peter had the vaguest feeling that he knew who this guy was, but he couldn’t place it. He’d seen him earlier though; standing alone at the funeral, maybe not knowing a soul. A funeral could be a really lonely place to begin with – and if he didn’t know anyone—

“I’m Peter.”

“I know.”

Peter quirked an eyebrow and he shrugged.

“Tony talked about you all the time. Well, not at first, but after a while. Favourite conversational topic.” He nodded then put on a vague impression of Mr Stark: “ _Oh, the kid would’ve loved this. You know Peter was into bio-chem, I liked having an actual lab around. Oh, man, the Spiderman suits were a feat of engineering._ ”

This guy knew he was Spiderman? “Uh, sorry,” Peter said, shaking his head. “Must’ve sucked—”

“No way, man,” he replied. “I mean, it sucked hearing about you for five years and thinking I’d never actually meet you, but… Tony always looked happy when he was talking about before – you know, that sad kind of happy.”

Peter swallowed and looked at the stranger again. “I don’t—I don’t actually know who you are.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Harley Keener. I was like, the original child Tony took under his wing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, he broke into my house one time and made me make him a tuna sandwich. Then he destroyed the only bar in town and took down the Mandarin.”

Recognition lit up Peter’s mind. The Mandarin, Extremis, Harley Keener. “Tennessee,” he said.

“That’s right.”

“Mr Stark told me about that.”

Harley nodded once, like that was the end of it. “Come on,” he said, crouching and pushing back the opening to the tent. “I want one of Morgan’s cookies.” He crawled inside, ignoring the dirt on his knees, and Peter hesitated before following.

Morgan’s tent was even smaller on the inside. Cushions lined the edges of the floor, and a stack of pens and paper, curled at the edges, were pushed in one corner. An Iron Man action figure sat, pride of place, on the central cushion, and Harley picked it up, a soft look in his eyes. Then he blinked it away and pushed the cushion aside to reveal the small tin.

“She likes the double chocolate chip ones,” he said, prying off the lid. He offered one to Peter before taking one of himself, replacing the tin where it belonged.

For a moment, they sat in silence, the air hot in the tent, the low murmur of conversation drifting from the other side of the house. Then, Peter sighed. “I wish I’d been there.”

“For what?”

“For Morgan. The wedding, her birth. I’ve missed her whole life.”

“Only four years,” Harley said. “She’s gonna have a lot more. I’ve… I’ve been pretty in and out over the past few years – with college and Rose Hill and all. But she’s little and she’s full of love, and she’s been hearing about her _big brother Peter_ since the day she was born.” Peter blinked in surprise, and Harley nodded. “I know we don’t know each other, dude, but we share a sister now. And that’s a pretty big responsibility.”

The look in Harley’s eye was a little to real for Peter, so he averted his gaze to the uneaten cookie in his hand. “I’ve never had a sibling before.”

“Well, now you’ve got two. And a half. You can have my sister Ariel too, if you want her. I don’t mind.” Peter almost smiled at the joke, and Harley continued, “He’s gone now, and that fucking sucks, and—and I wake up every morning and have to remember all over again, but he wouldn’t have gone peacefully if he thought we weren’t going to do our best by Morgan and look out for each other. For better or for worse, Peter Parker, I’ve got your back.”

Peter looked up, feeling the familiar pressure behind his eyes. He sniffed, met Harley’s gaze and nodded once. The two boys almost smiled, but neither managed it before the tent flap lifted and Morgan Stark paused in the doorway.

“This is my fort,” she said, looking between the two.

“Sorry, Morg,” Harley replied, opening up his arms for her. “We needed a quiet place for a bit.” Morgan nodded like this was reasonable and climbed into Harley’s lap, settling herself there with his arms around her. She frowned at Peter.

“Is that one of my cookies?”

Harley’s hand shot out, pushing the cookie up into Peter’s mouth. “No,” he said. “Not at all.” Morgan looked like she was about to laugh, and Peter had to hold his back to chew. “You remember Peter, right?”

Morgan nodded, tipping her head back until it rested on Harley’s collarbone. “From the photos.”

“And the stories?”

She nodded again. “And the stories. Itsy Bitsy Spiderman.”

“Itsy Bitsy what?” Peter asked, through his mouthful.

Morgan placed her thumbs against her pointer fingers and started climbing them up as she sang the tune, “ _The itsy bitsy Spiderman climbed up the water spout, down came the rain and washed the Spiderman out. Out came the sun and dried up all the rain. And the itsy bitsy Spiderman climbed up the spout again._ ”

Peter laughed suddenly, for the first time since Mr Stark died. He laughed and Harley laughed and Morgan giggled in his lap. They laughed until it hurt, until the tears threatened to spill out, and then even after they had. It wasn’t even funny enough for all the laughter it received, but they laughed anyway, until Harley swiped his tears away with the back of his hand, and then did the same for Morgan.

“Daddy taught me that,” she said, looking up at Harley and back over to Peter. He wasn’t surprised, and nodded, brushing away the damp on his cheeks. “Did Daddy teach you any songs?”

Peter smiled. “Just AC/DC’s entire discography.”

“Oh that’s a good one,” Harley replied.

“I don’t know it,” Morgan pouted.

“Don’t worry,” Harley said, pressing a kiss into the top of Morgan’s head. “We’ll teach it to you.”

Morgan clambered off Harley’s lap after that, rummaging through her things and handing her Iron Man action figure to Peter as she pulled out her paper and pens. The pad of paper was half filled, and she flipped back through it to show Peter and Harley her drawings. Peter had never had a younger sister before, and the most he’d ever interacted with children was as Spiderman, saving them or taking selfies on the street. But Harley was a natural, praising her work and asking questions about the drawings.

“I wanna show you my favourite one,” she said, turning the pages with renewed vigour. “Uncle Rhodey wanted me to draw it for him but I forgot to give it to him when I did it.”

“What is it?” Peter asked, and Morgan stopped moving, staring at the right page. She picked up the pad and turned it so it faced the boys, and Peter stopped breathing, just for a moment.

In the centre of the page, there was Morgan; brown hair and purple clothes, her hands holding Pepper’s and Tony’s – bright orange hair and red suit of armour respectively. Then, on Pepper’s side, were two men; a black suit for Happy and a grey blob of War Machine armour for Rhodey. And on Tony’s—two boys. One with yellow hair and the other with brown, a spider with six legs on his chest.

“It’s my family,” Morgan said, almost smiling. “See, there’s you, and your spider. I tried drawing Spiderman a few times but I never get it right.”

“Why—why am I in the drawing?” Peter asked, though he had a feeling he knew the answer.

“Because you’re my brother,” Morgan said. “Daddy said you were gone, but you came back.”

“Yeah,” Peter replied, his voice quiet. “I did.”

 

-

 

It was a nice day for a funeral, all things considered.

Though everyone cried, and Steve turned into an old man half way through the day, there was a lot of joy; a lot of happiness over the life of a man who deserved better than he got, but always gave anyway. When Peter was little, he used to watch Tony Stark on the TV, used to hear the moniker _Merchant of Death_ and wonder if he was really that bad.

And he wasn’t, not at all. The Merchant of Death became the Protector of Life and gave himself up for the entire universe. To save everyone. To save Peter.

When the wake got a little too much, Harley, Peter’s new brother that was five years older and had watched the entire world crumble and scrabble through the ashes, nodded him outside and said they were going for a ride. He led him to a Mustang with the loudest engine Peter had ever heard, and they drove way over the limit until they felt less like dying and more like laughing.

When May went home that night, Peter stayed behind at Mr Stark’s house, his eyes still wandering through the pictures, one by one. They’d played the recording that Mr Stark left behind over and over, had listened to his words until they became ingrained in their heads. _I love you 3000_ , he’d said to his daughter, and the second time it’d happened she’d reached out to touch him, but her hand passed straight through his holographic body.

When the mourners finally dispersed and left, and Peter was curled up on the sofa, Morgan’s sleeping body on his lap, Pepper found them, a small smile on her face.

“He would’ve loved this,” she said, soft, and Peter was too tired to cry again, so he didn’t. “He really wanted you to meet her.”

“I miss him,” Peter whispered, careful not to wake the last part of Tony Stark with his words.

“Me too,” Pepper said. “But we’ll see him again someday. I know we will.”

Pepper stepped around the coffee table and moved to lift Morgan from Peter’s grasp. He sniffed, running his fingers through Morgan’s hair one last time.

“Ten years ago,” Peter said, “—or maybe fifteen, now—would you have thought that this is where we’d end up?”

Pepper smiled a sad kind of smile, and lifted Morgan into her arms. “No,” she replied. “If someone had told me the day Tony came home from Afghanistan that this was where we’d be—I would’ve laughed in their face. But this is where we are, Peter. And it’s sad, but it’s okay, and it’s a good life to have. Tony would want us to have the best life we could, even if he’s not here for it.”

Peter nodded, gaze drifting from Pepper, to Morgan, to his lap, covered with a blanket.

“Get some sleep,” she whispered. “There’s a room upstairs with your name on it. Tomorrow, if you’re feeling up to it, you can go through Tony’s stuff in the garage. He was still designing suits whether he thought you’d be coming home or not.”

Peter frowned, blinking at the thought, but Pepper had already turned and started heading for the stairs. He waited a moment before following after her, ignoring the door that led to the garage – he’d deal with that tomorrow, or the day after. He couldn’t imagine being Spiderman just yet anyway, so it could wait.

Upstairs, there was a door wide open, Harley standing inside and pulling two murphy beds down from the wall. Peter stopped in the doorway and waited for Harley to notice him.

“Take whichever you want,” Harley said when he did.

“Is this the guest room?” Peter asked, stepping in. There were a few posters on the wall – Star Wars and Avengers ones, watching over the room. There were two built in wardrobes on either side of the beds, too, and a window looking out into the woods.

Harley shook his head. “It’s our room, Parker.” _Our room._ Harley placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder as he passed. “He figured out time travel in one night, you know.”

“Yeah,” Peter breathed, and Harley was gone, back out in the glowing yellow light of the hallway.

_Our room._ Two beds. Tony Stark had never given up hope, even when he told the world he had. He’d left a bed for Peter, just in case. Just in case the impossible became possible; in case quantum space travel could send people through time; in case there was even the slightest chance that Peter Parker might come back to life.

Two beds, for his sons.

And Peter Parker’s third father figure was dead.

**Author's Note:**

> now i have lots of thoughts and feelings about endgame and harley keener and tony and peter and everything, but i'm not gonna spread them all around here. just know that i'm torn up over tony, and steve's jaunt through the past directly opposes the previously set out rules of time travel in the mcu. it was a good film though, even though i have no idea what they did to thor.
> 
> hmu in the comments, thanks for reading


End file.
